THE VISION:
AN ELEGY.
What time the moon, in silver robes array’d,
Propt on her lucent throne, majestic sate,
With weary steps, I trod the muse-fraught glade,
And hail’d the sombre glory of her state.
Still was the air, and solemn all the scene;
For there, immers’d in heavenly thought profound,
Deep Wisdom rov’d, whose sable robes were seen
To sweep with awful majesty the ground.
Bent o’er an urn, pale Melancholy stood,
With Pity’s smile soft melting in her eye;
Around her feet, in visionary mood,
The weeping spectres float in sorrow by.
There Contemplation held her awful reign,
And Fear, methought, burst thro’ the low’ring gloom:
While sounds terrific whisper’d in the gale,
And palid visions burst the yawning tomb.
Oppress’d I stood; when lo! from yonder sky;
Where charms celestial to the sight are giv’n,
Some Seraph’s beauties swept in glory by,
Enwrapt in all the radiant blooms of heav’n.
Propt on an amber cloud, one seem’d to stand,
While o’er his breast his radiant pinions fold:
A glitt’ring spear supports his better hand,
His blazing helmet flames with plumy gold!
I hear him say, “Why pour thy mournful strain?
Why feed with bitter grief thy woe-fraught mind,
Why pants thy heart with visionary pain?
Why give thy tresses to the ruffled wind?
No more let strains of hopeless sorrow flow;”—
He spoke, my father burst upon my eyes!
“For me no more unlock the source of woe,”
In strains divine my honour’d parent cries.
“For I am seated in the realms of light,
Where founts of bliss from joys perennial play;
Where suns of glory purify the sight,
And the soul triumphs in eternal day!
Raise thy low thoughts to images above,
And hail the form you ought not to deplore,
Lodg’d in the bosom of your maker’s love;
And learn from heav’nly precept to adore.
Frail child, no more let tears impearl thine eye,
Nor rending groans lament thy glorious fire;
Since wisdom tells you, that we all must die,
Tho’ born to flourish with celestial fire!
Be these thy precepts; learn from hence, no more
To bid the stream of erring sorrow flow:
Exalt thy eyes; you realms of light explore,
And aim to bloom where truths celestial glow!”
Corrected thus—I humbly bow’d my head:
Thrice round his breast his flaming jav’lin flies;
His radiant path eternal glories spread;
He mounts the air, and seeks the opening skies.